


1287

by DoctorpooandtheTURDIS



Series: 1287 [1]
Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Before episode 1, Character Parallels, Dreams, No Romance, Post-Game: Halo 3, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23776243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorpooandtheTURDIS/pseuds/DoctorpooandtheTURDIS
Summary: The Forward Unto Dawn drifts through space, it's lone human occupant frozen in eternal slumber.In Hawkins, deep within a monolithic laboratory, a little girl is sealed in an isolated room.So how did they meet?
Series: 1287 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713106
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	1287

**Author's Note:**

> So I was playing a game of Halo, when my sister (who isn't normally into video games) asked about the plot. I got to explaining the backstory of the Master Chief, and she said "So he's basically Eleven, with power armor and no psychic powers?"
> 
> And thus this was born.

They say you can’t dream in cryosleep. The electrical signals that allow for dreaming, or even conscious thought, are all suspended, like a medically induced coma. Any ‘dreams’ that a person might have in the cryotube are simply the product of disorientation brought on by quick-thaw.

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 however, knew that to be a lie.

He dreamed all the time in cryosleep. Sometimes it was about his life before, jumbled sensory data from a child almost too young to remember anything. Sometimes he was on a beach, with a woman calling out for him who looked more and more like Dr. Halsey each time he experienced it. Other times, it was about his brothers and sisters from the SPARTAN program, children undeserving of the fate they were going to be subjected to. Every time John-117 dreamed in cryosleep, it was a sensation that took him in fully, and it was one of the very few times that he could let go of the burning, chaotic world around him, to simply relax and indulge himself in the memories of people long since gone, and then he’d be woken up, and pushed back into the fire.

He didn’t know for certain how long he’d been in the tube this time. Halo’s destruction had been such a chaotic event, there was barely any time to orient himself before going into cryo, and dreaming itself was already weird enough when it came to the passage of time. He wished that Cortana could be in his dreams with him, if only to have someone to talk to that could actually respond like a living being, to keep him company in the long sleep.

It was at that moment the SPARTAN registered the fact that he was aware he was in cryo this time. Every time he dreamed, it was like reliving the events, not being aware that he was in cryo.

He allowed himself a small snort. Lucid dreaming in cryosleep, what impossible thing will he think of and then subsequently do next?

He looked around, taking in the inky black void that extended into infinity in all directions. He lifted his boot, and gave an experimental stomp on the surface beneath him, if it could be described as such. 117’s reflection rippled and shimmered like water, yet somehow he remained completely stable, as if he was standing on solid stone.

117 lifted his arm, to see it safely encased within the olive green armor plating of his MJOLNIR armor. And despite the fact there were no visible sources of light anywhere, the armor was illuminated as though the SPARTAN was standing in direct sunlight.

It was then that he took note of the odd echoing noise that filled the air. He briefly berated himself for not registering it earlier _(‘What would Mendez say?’_ ), and tried to find the source. The titanic man turned around.

There, not only a few feet away from him, was a human child. No more than twelve, at the very most, buzzcut, wrapped in a hospital gown, laying on the ground(?),and sniffling.

117 hadn’t been a stranger to crying children. He himself had been one long ago, and he had seen more than his fair share over the course of the war. Every time, he tried to keep himself distant, to focus on the mission, but this time was different, some part of him knew.

For unlike those countless children he had seen screaming and crying as their world burned around them, this time he could _feel_ this child’s pain.

It wasn’t a physical pain, like a gunshot or broken bone, but it _hurt._ So much grief and pain, that it felt like something was crushing his ribcage, and in that moment, the Master Chief came to a decision.

He approached.

Almost imperceptible, the child stiffened as the titanium boots of the Chief’s armor thundered against the paradoxically solid water.

The SPARTAN came to a halt above the child. “Hey…” He spoke softly, though his voice still echoed across this place. Dealing with children, in any environment, was something he was not used to, but he would try, if only to indulge his subconscious. “Are you alright?”

The child finally looked up, though she(now that the Chief was able to get a good look at her face) did not speak, and was still sniffling. The girl, very slowly, stood up, and 117 was forced to crouch down in order to be level. Children liked you being on their level, didn’t they?

“Hey.” The SPARTAIN spoke again. “Everything’s going to be okay.” He debated with himself again silently. What he was about to do next was a major breach of protocol. Odd thing was, in the moment, he didn’t care in the slightest. “My name is John. What’s yours?”

The girl blinked, and turned her left arm over, revealing a small tattoo near her wrist.

The number 011 stared back at the Master Chief. “Zero-One-One?” The man said aloud, reading it like a SPARTAN service tag.

The girl shook her head.

“Eleven?” The SPARTAN repeated.

This time, she nodded.

“Do you have a first name?”

Eleven shook her head.

The SPARTAN frowned on the inside of his helmet. Even when he was conscripted, they still let him have his first name.

“Where did you come from?” He asked, trying to confirm if she was from a military installation.

She swallowed, and spoke. “Bad place.”

The SPARTAN frowned. “What kind of bad place?”

“…Bad.”

Well, that was no help. Still, if nothing else, it taught him that his subconscious had created quite the rabbit hole to keep him entertained. Maybe when he got back to Earth, he could talk to Doctor Halsey about runaway dreams.

“Not dreaming.” Eleven suddenly spoke, and the SPARTAN recoiled.

_‘Did she just-?’_

“Yes.” Eleven stated.

So, Eleven just read his mind. The Master Chief wasn’t too taken aback, it made sense if he was dreaming.

“Not dreaming.” Eleven repeated. “Awake, but… not there.”

The Chief cocked his eyebrow.

Eleven pointed at his armor. “One place.” She pointed at his head. “Other place.”

So… his body was in one place, but his mind was somewhere else?

“And…” He began. “You can read my _mind_?” He asked. Some part of him wondered, and then came to the conclusion, that Eleven was another one of ONI’s ‘clandestine’ projects. Someone that could read minds over vast distances would be exactly the kind of operative ONI would want to produce. “Who sent you?” He asked. If Eleven could report back to her superiors, tell them that he was still alive-

“Bad.” There was that word again. Whoever her handlers were, Eleven obviously did not have a good opinion of them.

He understood. John and the others didn’t regret what they had been forced into, they made their peace with it long ago, and if nothing else, their sacrifice gave humanity a fighting chance. But there would always be some part of John, no matter how infinitesimally small, that wondered what his life would be like if he hadn’t been stolen away from his mother. And that part would always hate ONI for it.

“Same.” Eleven stated, breaking the silence that had fallen. “You and me.”

So, she picked up on that little spiel too.

He allowed himself to release a quiet chuckle. “Maybe not quite the same. I can’t read minds. But… close enough. If you can’t tell me where you came from, can you tell me why?”

“Papa.” She whispered simply. “Wants to know.”

“Know what?” The SPARTAN asked. “Where I am?”

She shook her head. “Not you.” She looked around. “This place.”

117 let out a quiet ‘ah,’ and nodded. “I was an accident.”

Eleven nodded. “Felt scared. Needed… needed…”

“Help?” The Chief suggested, and Eleven nodded. Part of him was horrified. What kind of people was she with, that she didn’t even know the meaning of a word like help? And in that moment, something snapped. “Listen,” He began gently taking one of her hands in his own. “I want to help you. But I can’t. Not while I’m stuck out in space.”

“Space?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’m… well, I really don’t know _where_ I am. I suppose I’m lost.”

“Not lost.” Eleven suddenly got this look in her eyes, like she had a new sense of purpose. She stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around his torso. “Here.” She said. “Wish I could go too.”

The SPARTAN sighed. “I’m sorry.” He said, even though he had no reason to be. But looking at her small frame, far too skinny for someone of that age, and the buzzcut hair, he felt a sense of kinship he hadn’t in a long time.

And as she held him, desperately clinging in the hope of keeping him with her, the dark void began to disappear from around 117 and 011, as a bright, searing light filled the SPARTAN’s vision.

“Wake up, John.”


End file.
